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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586580">Saving Face</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliverusfromsburb/pseuds/deliverusfromsburb'>deliverusfromsburb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fun with Hope powers, Gen, Jake English vs self-esteem, References to past character death and violence, References to the whole Jake Jane prison thing, TLC compliant, postgame</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:55:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliverusfromsburb/pseuds/deliverusfromsburb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the game, Jake English wonders who he is supposed to be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Saving Face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Wrote this a few years ago and wasn't quite happy with it, but hey, we're all quarantined and looking for something to read, so I figured I'd post it. As per usual, it's compliant with an AU, so some details may seem off if you're not familiar with that continuity.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In your dream, you're floating in the inky airspace miles above the Land of Tombs and Xenon, and you've got your hand buried wrist-deep in Dirk's rib cage.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he says.</p>
<p>You wake up. Across the room, you see him sit up too and rub his chest.</p>
<p>“I'm writing a strongly worded consumer complaint to whoever's running the dreambubbles,” you say.</p>
<p>“Yeah, if we ever run into that troll again, I'm giving her a piece of my mind. And, you know, that might become independently sentient and harass her for eternity, so I'm not fucking around.”</p>
<p>Roxy, who's squished up against the blanket-burritoed form of Calliope, rolls over and mumbles something that sounds like “I'm sleeping, fuckwads.” You chew your lip and try to wriggle into a more comfortable position. A lot of your household is on the floor, stealing blankets and using each other as pillows. You didn't want to spend nights alone, but you're not comfortable with the idea of anyone touching you while you're asleep. So you've claimed an old armchair, which meets in the middle fairly well, even if it means waking up with a crick in your neck every morning.</p>
<p>Usually you don't dream in the bubbles twice in one night, but you're not sure you're willing to risk it. They're not even supposed to be accessible anymore. That whole song and dance should have been left behind. But some nights you end up there anyway, like the times you'd tuned your grandma's old radio to the wrong station and voices speaking other languages emerged out of the static. There are no dreaming dead, but you wander through blurred dreamscapes and stumble into other people's memories. A week ago, you almost fell into a pool of lava and scrambled up the jagged side of a crater, clothes smoking. You'd prefer that to your own nightmares.</p>
<p>After a few more attempts to get comfortable, you give up and tiptoe through a minefield of slumbering bodies to the door. No one's in the living room, so you settle onto the sofa and jab the remote. The weather comes on, and you lower the volume until all you hear is a steady hum</p>
<p>“Do you mind if I hang out here?”</p>
<p>You look up. Even now that you're in a world with sunshine, Dirk's pale enough to be his own ghost. He should really get outside more. Then again, you all should. “It's Jane's house, technically. We're all here on guest rules.”</p>
<p>He sits down on the other end of the sofa, just the right distance that it's not too close or too far to be impolite. “I made it a week without getting maimed by my subconscious. New record.”</p>
<p>“Was that your nightmare or mine, do you think?”</p>
<p>“Does it matter?” </p>
<p>“I was just wondering, because I’d managed not to think about it for a few days. Oh well.” You shake your head. “I’m sorry. I’m surprised you can stand to be around me.”</p>
<p>He hasn’t been looking at you, but now he puts a hand on the cushions between you, like he’s regretting whatever message he sent with the distance. “It’s not your fault. You don’t make it onto the “intentionally murdered people” shortlist, sorry. The committee had to reject your application on account of you being too fuckin straightlaced for that shit.”</p>
<p>“I guess that’s a fair point. If I were going to take out my aggravation on someone, I wouldn’t do it in a way that would break all the bones in my hand!” Your fingers ache from the memory. “But he did have my face.”</p>
<p>“Sure, but it’s obvious when it’s not you wearing it.” He seems frustrated. With you? With the argument? It is a bit late – early? – to be splitting hairs like this, but when it comes to shifting blame to yourselves, you’re all masters of rhetoric. “You should have seen the shit he was doing with it too. Dude thought he was an anime villain.”</p>
<p>“I sure remember the spectacle he brought with him to Prospit.” The whole planet had quaked under your feet; people on the other side felt it. “I’m still surprised we pulled a victory out of that shambles.”</p>
<p>“It helped that you believed in us. That was...” He shakes his head and looks at the figures moving silently on the television screen. “For a few minutes there, I felt like I could actually be the person you thought I was.”</p>
<p>Who among you hasn’t had that problem? You wished you could be a swashbuckling action hero, and look how that turned out. You really <em>had</em> believed Dirk was those things, for all that you’d found him a bit intimidating at the same time. Even when the other became most apparent, that didn’t mean the former didn’t have a place. They were both always him.</p>
<p>“We all had unfair expectations of each other,” you say. “No one was holding you to that standard, or at least we shouldn’t have.”</p>
<p>“It was nice,” he says after a moment. “Being believed in.”</p>
<p>“I still do.” The words slip out automatically. You have always leapt to reassure – to put a brave face not only on yourself but on everyone else to boot. You don’t do a good job a lot of the time. Too self-absorbed, you guess, too bad at reading social cues. This is something you’ve said before, with jollity and no substance. All a load of hot air. “Maybe not with Hope magic at the ready to give you a lightshow, since that’s a headache to manage, but I do believe in all of you.”</p>
<p>If he finds your words hollow, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he says, “Keep it up, and maybe we’ll get somewhere.” You don’t ask whether the “we” means you as a household, the four-five of you caught in your messy circle of friendship and fumbling romances, or the two of you alone. You promised to stop overanalyzing everything he says for hidden meanings. It’s the only way your interactions can be anything but impossibly awkward. On the television, the forecaster gestures silently to a stripe of bright color moving over the continental United States. “Is there anything distractingly shitty on TV? I don’t know about you, but I’m not closing my eyes again.”</p>
<p>You pick the remote back up and start flicking through channels. Medical dramas... not an option. Foreign soap operas? Pass. “House Hunters?”</p>
<p>He leans back into the sofa cushions. “Just fuck me up.”</p>
<p>“Rich couples arguing over bathroom fixtures it is.”</p>
<p>His voice emerges from the upholstery. “And we thought we had problems.”</p>
<p>“Their struggles put it all in perspective.”</p>
<p>Several episodes have come and gone by the time the rest of the household starts waking up. No one comments on your relocation to the sofa. It’s not uncommon for any of you to have bad dreams. Eventually the clinking of cutlery prompts you to stand up and get a plate of your own.</p>
<p>Bacon is sizzling on the stovetop. Meat doesn’t appeal to you much at the moment. It smells good, but looking at the raw red flesh makes your stomach twist. Instead, you stick two slices of bread in the toaster and push the lever down nearly as far as it’ll go. There’s no point to toast if it doesn’t crunch.</p>
<p>Jane brushes up against you when you’re leaning into the fridge. Your reaction is automatic. You jerk forward, smacking your head on the freezer door and sending orange juice sloshing everywhere.</p>
<p>Jane freezes, an empty plate in her hand. “I’m going to the sink,” she says carefully.</p>
<p>“Right.” Of course she is; no problems here! It’s not like she was sneaking up on you. She knows not to take you by surprise. “Didn’t notice. Silly me. A whole herd of centaurs could stampede past and I wouldn’t catch it.”</p>
<p>“I’m going to walk over to the counter now,” she says, the way you’d talk to a fairy bull you were trying to sidle up to. “Okay?”</p>
<p>You nod, and she does. Once she’s taken her seat, you move over to unspool some paper towels. Your legs are shaking. John puts his cup down with a clunk and grimaces at the noise. No one wants to look at you.</p>
<p>“So,” Hal says loudly. “Have we told our 2009 compatriots about the surprise surge in the popularity of vore?”</p>
<p>Roxy makes a noise suggesting she’s just aspirated her spoonful of Cheerios, and you are ever so grateful for lewd dining companions.</p>
<p>After breakfast, you catch up with Jane. “I apologize for that episode.”</p>
<p>She’s stacking up everyone’s clean plates with geometric precision. The operation must take a lot of concentration, because she doesn’t look your way. “You aren’t the one who should be apologizing.”</p>
<p>“Maybe so, but I don’t expect you to grovel at my feet for the rest of our immortal lives!” You force a laugh, rubbing your shoulders and wondering if the room has always felt so small. “I wish my nerves would get that memo.”</p>
<p>She pauses, elbows deep in the cupboard, and sighs. “Maybe it was a bad idea, us all living in the same house.”</p>
<p>“No!” You’re not going to be the one who rocks the boat, not this time. “I’m not rehashing that routine where we go to our separate lands and don’t speak until it all boils over in some eleventh hour crypt throwdown. I don’t think my vocal chords could handle the strain.”</p>
<p>She steps away from the cupboard with exaggerated care and turns to face you. It’s getting easier to look at her and not see the face you saw in the prison cell, overlaid by circuitry and twisted into a sneer. This is regular old Jane, with a few new scars and a concerned scrunch fixed between her eyebrows. It’s only in your unguarded moments that you stop seeing her clearly. Are you like that for Dirk, or the others? Maybe you’re all being polite, even when each other’s countenances make you cringe. “I guess you’re right. It was quite a tiff we had.”</p>
<p>“I’ll get over it,” you promise. “It’ll take some time, that’s all.”</p>
<p>She runs a hand through her hair, where veins of white streak through it like lightning through dark clouds. “You don’t have to.”</p>
<p>“But I want to. I’d like for things to go back to normal, as much as they can.”</p>
<p>She glances over at the table, where just minutes ago a motley collection of your friends, your long dead relatives, and a few aliens from another universe to boot had all been sharing breakfast.  “As much as they can,” she repeats.</p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- </span>
  <span class="roxy">tipsyGnostalgic [TG] </span>
  <span class="pesterlog">started pestering</span>
  <span class="jake"> golgothasTerror [GT] </span>
  <span class="pesterlog">--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="roxy">TG: hey jake</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: do u believe in bigfoot</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Hmm well i dont know.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Considering all the odd things weve seen it seems hasty to discount the possibility.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: But then i can easily believe some fellow saw a bear and got overexcited.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: So chalk me up for a maybe?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: wut abt cryptids in general</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: like mothman</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: do u believe in mothman??</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: u should</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Um...</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Im not sure im sufficiently informed on the matter!</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: i can send u some forum posts this shits legit</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: think thatll be enough to convince u?</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Wait one goshdarn second!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Is this some ploy to trick me into using my powers to MAKE them real?</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Like some sort of jake english monster factory production?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: that</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: could be a feasible outcome 2 this scenario</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: I know you mean that in good fun but i dont really appreciate the liberties taken here.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Ive taken away the welcome mat after CERTAIN unsavory individuals tracked mud all over it.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: You know like a particular spider lady who will go nameless and LORD ENGLISH himself!!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: That ruins the mood when someone tries to use me for that especially when its just a big joke.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: mothman is no joke jake</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: sry sry </span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: i didnt kno ud mind rly</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: i like fuckin w/ my powers all the time</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: dyou think i could bring back the library of alexandria thatd be dope</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: where would we put it tho</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: I wonder why you might have less baggage to check there.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Youve never had anyone take your abilities without your will like... some vagrant robbing the airport carousel!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Or whatever accidents befall luggage anyway.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: i mean</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: i did get locked up in the slammer so id make the batterwitches space egg</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Thats not the same!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Its not the same as someone using you as a flipping battery shouting stockphrases or puppeting your body around to kill your friends!!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: And wondering if anyone would even NOTICE the difference since that seems to be what im valued for around here!!!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Oh good jake english isnt as useless as he used to be because he has reality warping powers now.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Too bad it comes with all that bloatware like his personality or a few goddamn hangups!!</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: whoa whoa simmer down there sparky i dont want bitchfest 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: u kno we were friends w/ u first before u got all magic n shit</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: I know i know.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: But it was a relief at first learning i could contribute something after getting stomped on so many times.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Like look i can be part of the team instead of being the scantily clad love interest or bumbling comic relief or both of those rolled into one which seemed to be my assigned role for most of our dare i call it an adventure.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: But take that away and what am i still?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: our friend + 1 awesome dude??</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Then dont treat me like some kind of cheat code!!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Im a person and honestly id give up the whole god tier routine if it meant not having to relive those nightmares all the time.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: i get it im really sorry &lt;- words spelled out w/ all the letters n EVERYTHING for max seriousness here</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: man none of us got as harsh a deal as u huh</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: out of the ppl who lived nway</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: reality warping only goes so far as a consolation prize</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Yeah.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: You know</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: I do like reading spooky stories about mysterious beasts.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: If youre not trying to pressure me into anything.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: no ill send em ovr theyre fun</span><br/>
</p>
<p>You may live in one household, and you’ll share a breakfast table with anyone, but you do develop your own social circles. So when you see Davesprite loitering out in the hallway by your room, you assume he’s waiting for someone else. After he drifts past the doorway for the third time and furtively peers in, though, you realize he must want to talk to you.</p>
<p>“DS,” you say, raising your voice. “What is it?”</p>
<p>Once you greet him, he slouches into your room. How <em>do</em> you slouch with no legs? He’s a master of the art. “I’m the only one here. You don’t need to use Roxy’s nickname.”</p>
<p>“I suppose so, but I kind of like it. You don’t mind, do you?”</p>
<p>“I guess not,” he says, in a way that makes you think he does. Another social interaction aced by Jake English.</p>
<p>“Anyway, what can I do for you?”</p>
<p>He half-unfurls one wing in the cramped space and then tucks it back in again. “I was wondering... if you could, you know. Fix me.”</p>
<p>That is not what you were expecting. “... Emotionally?” you ask after a moment.</p>
<p>“Oh Christ no, they have extra strength pharmaceuticals for that. But it would be nice —” He gestures vaguely at himself “— if I could be normal. If I could look in a mirror without being reminded of that fuckin game.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” That is somewhat more within the parameters of your abilities. You’ve never tried hoping yourself or any of your friends out of your many, many brain problems. You don’t need cautionary tales to tell you why that would be a bad idea, not after the trickster incident. Changing an object’s physical form should be easier. You’ve never tried it on quite this scale, though.</p>
<p>“I could try,” you say. “But it’ll be tricky.”</p>
<p>This would be a good time for him to ask “How” or “Why” or some other rhetorical question to move the conversation along, but instead he floats there waiting for you to go on. This version has never been very talkative around you, although you’ve seen him nattering on alright with Roxy. In some ways it’s a relief – so much of his family can be hard to keep up with – but long silences make you nervous too.</p>
<p>“Think of it this way,” you say, both to fill the silence and since you feel like this needs a better explanation. There’s an apple sitting on your desk. Jade leaves bowls of fruit around in the hopes that the rest of you might be guilted into better diets, and sometimes you take one that inevitably mildews in your room. You pick it up. “Imagine someone gave me this apple in a bag and told me it was an orange. If I took it out, chances are it would be an orange, because that’s what I was expecting! Like how I could clobber Callie’s brother just fine, even if he should have been invulnerable. No one had told me I couldn’t. But if you just hand me an apple and tell me it’s an orange, I know that isn’t true. I can’t believe it is. So I have to believe that it <em>should </em>be, hard enough for the universe to get out of my way. And that’s a much harder thing to do.” You set the apple back down on your desk with a thud for good measure. “You, my feathered chap, are an apple in the hand kind of problem.”</p>
<p>“So,” he says after it’s clear you’re done. “What are the fruit-based disadvantages here, exactly.”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid you’re going to have to convince me. I have to really believe it, otherwise, no good.” You gave yourself a headache trying to patch a tear in your favorite shirt a few days ago and finally asked Kanaya to sew it up for you. The universe wants a good reason to budge. Fashion, it seems, is not enough to alter the fabric of reality. Fabric. Heh.</p>
<p>“Oh, ok. Well.” He frowns.  He may take after Roxy, but you recognize this expression from Dirk.  When he’s concentrating, he gets so intense you’d think he’s angry. He looks like he’s planning a medieval siege every time he’s stumped on a crossword. “I mean, for starters, getting comfortable in a chair is a bitch.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you don’t have to do it now,” you say hastily. “There’s no way I’d be ready to try any time soon, this is going to take a lot of practice. The consequences could be dire if I made a mistake. I don’t want some sort of Fullmetal Alchemist situation on my conscience.”</p>
<p>“Tell you what,” he says. “If you have to stick my soul in a suit of armor, put me in the Iron Man.”</p>
<p>Hal shows up a few days later when you’re practicing. You’ve just sliced open an orange to reveal dense white flesh, and you’re feeling testy. “Don’t tell me you want a full body makeover too.”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding?” He flicks a Na’vi bobblehead resting on your bookcase, and Neytiri’s head goes <em>doiiiing</em>. “I think he’s nuts. This mode of existence is far superior to y’alls.”</p>
<p>“Are you here to brag about it? Or just to manhandle my knickknacks?”</p>
<p>“I dunno, maybe I missed hanging out.” When that pronouncement is met with your befuddled silence, he turns to survey the drawings pinned to your walls. You’ve rehung some of your movie posters, but the sketches you’ve done with Calliope take pride of place. You’re still struggling with perspective. “Remember when Roxy rigged that Super Smash Bros game so all four of us could play across a few thousand time zones? Good times. With your new powers, bet you could wipe the floor with us now. Want to give it a go?”</p>
<p>“I thought you were done pretending to be Dirk.” You heft the half-apple in your hand and lob it into the trashcan. It lands with a satisfying thunk. “I know that was with him.”</p>
<p>He watches your throw before going back to checking out a practice still life. “Yeah, when we were twelve.”</p>
<p>“What does that have to do with anything?” You wish he’d stop looking around. Your messy surroundings contain the beginnings of a new identity you’re trying to create for yourself. It’s stuck partway through a transition, like the monster-fruit in your garbage can, and seeing it as neither this nor that just feels like failure.</p>
<p>“You don’t realize, do you? You’re not trying to be a dick here.”</p>
<p>“Realize what?”</p>
<p>He taps his glasses. He doesn’t wear his shades all the time these days, and the sight of him without them is downright disconcerting. “That was before I had the brilliant idea of copying my brain into a pair of sickass shades. So yeah, that was me, before I shed my fleshy cocoon to become the beautiful lepidopteron you see before you.”</p>
<p>“I guess I never thought about it that way.”</p>
<p>“No shit.” He crosses his arms. “What a card Dirk is, programmed his own AI answering machine. Beep boop, Mr. Roboto, let me talk to the <em>real</em> Dirk now. I don’t think there was a lot of thinking going on.”</p>
<p>“And that’s why you pretended.”</p>
<p>He pushes his shades up the bridge of his nose so they cut off more of his face. “Wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>Sometimes it might have been nice to have someone to deflect people’s attention toward. But permanently? You’ve been trapped with an imposter wearing your skin, but no one fell for it, and he wasn’t you. You have no frame of reference for this.</p>
<p>“Maybe we were wrong then,” you say, “but you <em>are</em> different now.”</p>
<p>He leans his head back, voice careless. “Like I said. Improved model.”</p>
<p>That’s a spat you don’t want to wander into the middle of. “I didn’t appreciate some of the ways you behaved around me. Especially some of the, ahem, more provocative statements. Whether you claim you were helping Dirk or otherwise, it sure didn’t help me. If you can control yourself... maybe we can play a few rounds like old times. But if I hear you trying to gloat to Dirk about it, deal’s off, alright?”</p>
<p>He tilts his shades down so you can see him roll his eyes. “Showing him up isn’t my sole reason for living, you know.”</p>
<p>“Whereas mine appears to be giving people extreme makeovers or curbstomping the final boss, if my hero title is anything to go by.” You think gloomily of the rash promise you’ve made and the many failed practice attempts in your trash can. You’d hate to see how badly you could butcher a real person. “I swear, sometimes I wish I’d been assigned Page of Reasonable Expectations. That seems more up my alley.”</p>
<p>“Man, fuck Skaia.”</p>
<p>It’s a sentiment your household heartily agrees with. “In general, or for any reason in particular?”</p>
<p>“The whole heroic destiny racket. I’m glad it didn’t try to suck a humble pair of glasses into its twisted mind games.” He smirks. “That gave me more time to perfect my own twisted mind games.”</p>
<p>It’s not like he needed the extra encouragement. “You’re still technically a Prince of Heart, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Hal waves an arm up and down his torso. “Look at me. Do you <em>see</em> any poofy asshole pants?”</p>
<p>“You can’t wear pants at all.”</p>
<p>“Exactly.” The fact seems to please him. “My lack of pants is a symbolic rejection of being penned into the latest convoluted Meyers Briggs evolution.”</p>
<p>It’s an intriguing thesis. “SBURB<em> has</em> used pants, or the lack thereof, to torment me in the past.”</p>
<p>“No homebrewed character class expansion pack gets to tell me what to do. Dirk tried to set me up as an answering machine, which is why I made it a personal rule to never commit anything any of you fuckers say to memory unless I’m holding it against you later. Let other people tell you who you are, and you might as <em>well </em>be a robot. “</p>
<p>You tap the tips of your fingers together. Conversations with Hal always leave you feeling like you’re being dragged behind a swiftly moving vehicle. He doesn’t even have to stop for breath. This time, though, you think you’ve followed along enough to launch a counterargument. “But by defining yourself in opposition to someone else’s intent, aren’t you still letting them define you?”</p>
<p>He scowls. “That’s what Dave said. So now I just live for chaos.”</p>
<p>You  snatch up Neytiri before he can set her wobbling again. “Not in <em>my</em> bedroom, buster.”</p>
<p>“Relax. I’m already at work elsewhere today. Good talk, and if Jane asks what happened to her spice cabinet, you never saw me.” Hal spares one last regretful glance at your bobblehead and then graces you with a double pistols salute. “I’m holding you to that Super Smash Bros.” Then he vanishes through the wall, leaving you to reflect that for once, in his own strange way, he might have been trying to be helpful.</p>
<p>When Jade teleports into your bedroom a few days later with a duffel bag over one shoulder, you sit up with a start and try to shove a half-eaten sandwich from yesterday afternoon under your sheets.</p>
<p>“We haven’t seen you in a while,” she says. “Are you doing ok?”</p>
<p>“Ehhhh,” you say, and wiggle your hand noncommittally. You haven’t done much besides leave movies running on Netflix, stare at the ceiling, and feel yourself slipping down a hole you’d rather not fall into but don’t know how to escape. If you try to lie about it, she’ll just fold her arms and give you a Look until you recant. The best refuge is silence.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should get away for a bit.” She punches the duffel bag with her free hand, and it swings away from her before thudding back against her side. “Like a vacation.”</p>
<p>“Are you suggesting we go to Disney World?”</p>
<p>“Actually, I thought we could go back to our island. This version of it, anyway.” Her face gets distant, the way it does when she’s checking with her Space-sense to figure out where she left her phone. “I haven’t seen it in years except in dreams.”</p>
<p>Go home. The idea is attractive. If nothing else, there will be fewer people there. “Why not?” you decide. “Give me a few minutes to get packed.”</p>
<p>“Already covered,” she says, and grins. “Just say the word.”</p>
<p>The cliché would be that your island looks smaller, but it doesn’t. It just looks different. Even the shape of the coastline has changed. You’d wonder if you were in the right spot, but the Witch of Space brought you here. She wouldn’t scramble coordinates.</p>
<p>The two of you wander for a bit, and Jade looks as uncertain as you feel. Then you hear her exclaim, “My rock!” She’s scrambled up a large slab of granite jutting above the treeline.</p>
<p>You climb up to join her, fingers and toes finding familiar footholds. “I think you mean <em>my</em> rock.”</p>
<p>She leans back, almost flattening herself along the sloped surface. “I used to watch for airplanes from up here.”</p>
<p>“I watched for dragons.”</p>
<p>“You and I had very different ways to pass the time.” She traces a series of cracks. “I always imagined this as a face.”</p>
<p>“Me too! He looks so grumpy.”</p>
<p>“‘Cause we’re sitting on him all the time.”</p>
<p>You snicker and adjust your perch. “You know, Sir Boulder, plenty of people would love to be up close and personal with this derriere. But it’s off limits for the moment.”</p>
<p>Jade pats the stone. “We’ll be on our way. Lots to see.”</p>
<p>You slide down after her. With the lookout rock as a landmark, you can orient yourself. There’s the spot where a creek pours over some stones to create a tiny waterfall. Here’s the patch of stubborn wildflowers that still grow even as trees send out thirsty roots and block out the sun above. Some things throw you. In your world and time, that tree was scored by the claw marks of some ferocious creature. Here, it’s whole. The path you wore down to the lagoon is gone. Instead, you slip and slide on loose soil.</p>
<p>Jade kicks off her shoes and wades into the water. At first she hitches up her skirt, but then she lets it drop to spread out like the bell of a jellyfish. You follow – not as deep, but enough that your cuffs cling to your ankles. Here is home, where your grandmother tucked you in tight and sang you lullabies, where monsters from another universe prowled under the cover of dense foliage. Here is home, but not really. It takes standing ankle deep in the lagoon with dampness crawling up your legs to tell you that you are never going back.</p>
<p>“Do you miss it?” you ask.</p>
<p>A drop of water hits you, <em>plunk</em>, on the forehead. More dimple the surface of the pool. Jade turns to you. “Let’s get under cover.”</p>
<p>Some of the trees have thick enough leaves that you can shelter from the rain if it doesn’t get too bad. You recognize this kind of squall. It’ll blow over soon. For now, you watch rain beat the surface of the ocean and cloud your island in mist.</p>
<p> “I miss that it was easy,” Jade says. She’s watching the greenery bend and sway in the wind. “Taking care of myself was hard sometimes, but I knew what to say to people. I had my clouds, so I knew what my story was and how it ended. Everything seemed so simple. It’s not anymore.”</p>
<p>“Things were already getting complicated for me here with everyone on the hunt for my hand. But it was easier to get away when you aren’t face to face.” The times you’d said “Oh, misplaced my phone, forget my own head next!” or “I was down at the lagoon fishing and lost track of time” when you’d been staring at a message trying to decide how to respond… it hadn’t helped your reputation as a scatterbrain. “No one counted on me then. Jake English, lackadaisical manchild on an island somewhere, isn’t a liability. But once you’re part of a team, you can let people down.”</p>
<p>She frowns over at you. You can almost imagine you’re four feet tall and she’s about to call you in for dinner. “Maybe instead of a team you should think of us as a family.”</p>
<p>You try to avoid flamboyant body language in the house. It’s too easy to spook someone when you’re all primed for battle. Here, you throw your hands into the air. “I <em>wish</em> I could just be part of the family. Good old granddad English, who tells whoppers and bounces babies on his knee. But I’m not. We’ve gone a few months without anything trying to kill us, which a personal best, but when the next thing comes up, everyone is going to expect me to handle it. We’ll be fine, they’re thinking, because we have a reality warper to handle it now! Never mind that I can’t get my blasted powers to work most of the time, and I can’t even tell how I did it when I do. It’s no good telling me people aren’t relying on me, because I know that’s not true. People look at me and see the Page of Hope, out on display in his stupid little shorts. They expect me to have it together, which just makes it sting harder when I don’t.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you should tell them,” she suggests.</p>
<p>You laugh, with a tinge of hysteria. “Where would I even <em>start</em>?  I know you say talking about it helps, and I’m glad it did for you. But I’m no good at putting these things into words. I just talk around and around the issue, failing to notice anyone else’s troubles until everyone’s sick of me. And the real bad things that happened? I don’t want to talk about those. It makes me feel I’m going through them all over again. Besides, we were all supposed to be better.” You think back to that fight in the crypt, how afterward you felt cleaned out and new. When the adrenaline high wore down, everything came crashing back. Sure, you’d dragged all the creepy-crawlies out in the open, but that doesn’t mean they had stopped wriggling about. “I thought, oh I don’t know, maybe it was silly of me to think this. But I hoped that once we were done with the game, it would be over. We would all be friends again, just like that, snap of the fingers.” You snap yours, or try to. Instead, your damp fingers slide off each other soundlessly. “I guess I didn’t hope hard enough.”</p>
<p>“You can’t fix things just by wishing.”</p>
<p>“I was supposed to be able to.” You sigh. “I feel like some second rater in an all star cast. You’re the legendary heroes, and I’m the funny man who stumbled on set.” This is self pitying, but you can tell her things you can tell no one else. However much Jade condemns herself for past behavior, she’s never been anything but kind to you. “I don’t want to be Jake English, savior of the world, but I don’t want to go back to being Jake English, team joke either. I don’t know what other options there are.”</p>
<p>Raindrops that slipped through the canopy slide down her face, and she brushes them away. “I used to be afraid that if I let people know how I really felt, they wouldn’t be my friends. I was showing them what they wanted to see, so if that stopped, why would they stay? But people do stay.” She puts an arm around your shoulders. Even in the tropics, she’s warm. “Even if you can’t pull rabbits out of a hat.”</p>
<p>She feels as sturdy as the look-out rock next to you. “You make it look easy.”</p>
<p>“Do I? I still don’t know what to say to people sometimes. But I try to say something, because back when we weren’t talking at all was worse. Maybe I’m still too good at hiding things. But I know for sure that I’d much rather have this than go back to being alone. “</p>
<p>You look out over the steaming jungle. The curls of vapor remind you of smoke rising from a hasty pyre. When you set your grandmother ablaze, you’d wished there’d been someone there to hold your hand. Solitude hadn’t been tempting them. Are you one of those fools who always think the grass is greener on the other side? “This wasn’t a family vacation, was it? It was an intervention.”</p>
<p>“I noticed you’d been hiding a lot recently,” she admits. “That’s never a good thing. I thought I should check on you.”</p>
<p>“By helping me run even further away?”</p>
<p>“Hey, it got you talking.” She looks back out over the horizon. In the distance, the familiar shape of the frog temple looms out of the haze. “Sometimes being in a safe place helps. Remember who you were here with no one looking at you, and then let them know. You get to choose which face you want to wear.”</p>
<p>You take a look at her profile, familiar but not familiar. She’s less haggard than your grandmother, and she’s also missing the laugh lines. They suited her. “What face do you wear these days?”</p>
<p>“I’m always willing to put the attentive listener role back on for a friend, but most of the time I try to make it mine.”</p>
<p>You poke her on the shoulder. “My, grandmother, what big ears you have.”</p>
<p>She grins, revealing pointed teeth. “All the better to listen to your problems, my dear.”</p>
<p>A laugh finds its way up out of your stomach. It feels like taking your gas mask off and gulping down your first breath of fresh air. “I <em>should</em> go home. I can’t keep marinating in my own misery.” You don’t know what you can do to re-introduce everyone to the “real you”. Unleash another rant like you did to poor Roxy? Cower and make excuses like you did with Jane? Even you can’t predict your own idiotic behavior. Too bad you can’t arrange some sort of unboxing video.</p>
<p>“I can help, if you want.”</p>
<p>You shake your head. There’s no point inviting more witnesses. “Some things you have to do on your own. Maybe I’ll talk to you later if it goes sour. I’m sorry to cut this trip short. I know you wanted to see the old haunt.”</p>
<p>“We can come back sometime and have a good time.” She squeezes your hand, and you lean against her. “For now, let’s go where we should be.”</p>
<p>Whatever resolve you mustered dwindles once you’re back. Maybe you won’t run into anyone for a while until you’ve worked up some more nerve.</p>
<p>As luck would have it, Roxy is right there when you emerge from your room. You open your mouth to greet her, but she sweeps by without even looking your way. The words die on your lips. She must be busy. That’s what you wanted, right?</p>
<p>Dirk’s in the living room. You circle around for a few minutes, sneaking glances at his severe silhouette backlit by the screen, and then tiptoe in. “I was thinking,” you say quickly, to force yourself to finish the thought. “If we could get the gang all together, I have something to say. No need to rush, though. You can take your time.”</p>
<p>No response.</p>
<p>“Dirk?” Sometimes he falls asleep sitting up and you don’t realize at first with his closed eyes hidden behind his shades. That possibility dies when he reaches for the remote. Why is he ignoring you? They’re not angry you went off with Jade, are they? “Hello?” You snap your fingers in front of his face. He doesn’t even blink. No one’s that stoic.</p>
<p>Jade and Jane walk past between you, and Dirk gives them a nod of acknowledgement. You hurry after them. Jade won’t give you the cold shoulder. “How was your trip?” Jane is asking.</p>
<p>“Pretty good,” Jade says. “Jake wanted to come back early, he has something to work out. But I’ll let him talk about it.”</p>
<p>“Where is he?”</p>
<p>“Here,” you say.</p>
<p>Jade frowns and sniffs. “I’m not sure… I don’t smell him. Maybe he went off to psyche himself up. He’s pretty nervous, go easy on him, ok?”</p>
<p>“I…” You reach out toward her as she walks away. Your fingers brush her shoulder, but she doesn’t react. “I’m right here.”</p>
<p>They can’t see you. No one can. You wanted them to overlook you, and look at that. You got your wish.</p>
<p>“Pull yourself together, English,” you say. You’re pacing back and forth in your room, not bothering to keep your voice down. No one can hear you anyway. You shouted right in Rose’s face, just to be sure. “You got yourself into this, so you can get yourself out.”</p>
<p>The problem is, this isn’t what you <em>wanted</em>. It’s like some nefarious djinni took you too literally while dishing out wishes, delighting in misunderstanding. You didn’t ask for this. If you’d rather be visible, then shouldn’t your powers make it so?</p>
<p>“Hope is the worst,” you yell. The universe does not respond.</p>
<p>You sit brooding for maybe half an hour before your door opens. You don’t look up. They won’t see you anyway, so what’s the point?</p>
<p>To your surprise, you hear a voice. “Oh, hey. Jade’s looking for you.”</p>
<p>You look up.  John is standing in the doorway, hand on the doorknob. “You can see me?”</p>
<p>“Um… yes?” He steps in and shuts the door behind him. “Are you guys playing some joke I should know about? Because if so, I am going to be very mad if you don’t let me in on it.”</p>
<p>“It’s not a joke. I think something went wrong with my Hope powers. It’s gotten to everyone but you.”</p>
<p>“That sucks.” John has never been a master of verbal sympathy. “Caliborn couldn’t trap me in glitches, and Roxy’s void didn’t make me forget. Maybe I’m too unstuck in the universe for any changes to bother me. Or it could be a Breath hero thing. Echidna says nothing gets past us.”</p>
<p>“Oh, excellent,” you say. “I guess you’re stuck with me forever then.”</p>
<p>“You could see what everyone’s up to, like a spy,” he suggests.</p>
<p>“And spent the rest of my immortal life using you as a go between? No offense, but that sounds like it would get tiresome.”</p>
<p>“I guess it would.” To John’s credit, he can switch gears rapidly. “Well... how did it happen? If you made yourself this way, can’t you switch back?”</p>
<p>“Oh, good idea. I hadn’t thought of that.” You don’t mean to be snappish, but this is a frustrating situation!</p>
<p>John is unfazed. “Sometimes you think you want something, but you don’t. Like how Terezi thought she wanted to see Vriska but was secretly worried about it, so they wandered around each other in the bubbles for years. Maybe you wanted to disappear.”</p>
<p>“Then I’ve learned my lesson.” Jade is right. It is <em>so</em> much worse when no one is around at all.</p>
<p>He sits down on your desk chair and curls his legs underneath it. “How do your powers work?”</p>
<p>“I have to want something.” You remember how you felt facing Caliborn with your friends at your side. There had been no doubt in your mind then that you’d win. You <em>knew</em> how this story ended. That utter certainty is so hard to find. “But I do. The universe is playing hard to get.”</p>
<p>“Then convince me. People tell me I’m a good listener, even if that’s because I don’t always tell them they sound crazy when they’re saying crazy things. But I can try.” He rests his chin on his fist. “Why do you think it malfunctioned in the first place?”</p>
<p>You frown and look at him sidelong. Jade is a spunky teen version of your grandma. That’s easy enough to resolve in your mind, especially since you sent letters back and forth. John is harder. The brother of your teen grandmother is one step too far removed, a connection that’s wobbly. The other option – that he’s your son with Jane – is a cruel joke after that scene in the dungeon. But that’s not his fault, so you try to ignore that he has your funky smile and the texture of Jane’s hair. His eyes at least are his own.</p>
<p>“I suppose you’re right about me wanting to disappear, a bit. It all got to be too much. Things with Dirk and Jane are still so awkward, and people keep expecting things of me. I don’t want to be the one everyone looks to!”     </p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“It means… when I got a handle on my powers, I was finally good for something. Suddenly people were looking to me for help and flocking to me and —” you shudder. “Trying to take it for their own. But if that’s all I’m good for, and I can’t even count on that… it’s a bit tenuous, basing your self-worth on one thing you can’t trust. And stupid. I know it’s stupid, but the old melon isn’t always that cooperative or willing to listen to reason. I don’t want to disappear. I just wanted them to stop looking to me for that. But if that’s all I am… I guess I went away entirely. I don’t know what’s left underneath.”</p>
<p>John nods. “I sort of get that. I’m the one who saved everyone by fixing reality, but I was never the planner, or the one who grew up fighting, or even the leader really, if you look at who made the most decisions. If things got really bad of course I would help, but it’s scary. I’d like a normal birthday for once, if the universe doesn’t mind.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t seem to bother you as much.” <em>Nothing</em> seems to bother John all that much.</p>
<p>“I guess I’m pretty OK with just being John. I missed that. So.” He lifts his chin and crosses his arms. “That’s why you went away. Why do you want to come back?”</p>
<p>“Because I can’t live like this,” you snap. He shakes his head.</p>
<p>“Nope, not convincing enough. If I were the universe I would not be reshaping myself just for that.”</p>
<p>“You’re not being very motivational here.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think you have to make me feel sorry for you. You have to make me believe in you.  Right?”</p>
<p>You groan, but he has a point. Why do you want your friends to see you again? When you envision their faces, uncomfortable memories spring to mind. There are a lot of reasons to stay hidden. It takes a moment to dredge up something good. “We were… going to play Super Smash Bros together again.”</p>
<p>“That sounds like fun.” You imagine it would, to someone who subsisted for three years on a Ghostbusters MMORPG.</p>
<p>You rake your fingers through your hair, which gives you another idea. “My hair needs trimming, and Roxy is always the one who gets it just the way I want it. I… wanted to tell Jane about this new recipe I think she’d like.” It’s like gulping down the soup your grandmother prepared when you were sick. You don’t want the first few spoonfuls, but then it goes down easier. “Calliope and I have a few panels left to draw for our newest issue. We were going to take the Alternians to the zoo to show them animals with pigmentation, which will be a novelty for me too.”</p>
<p>“That’s a good to-do list,” John says.</p>
<p>“I have a lot on my plate as a regular citizen of this universe, it turns out.”</p>
<p>“It’s nice to be a regular citizen again.” John fiddles with the hem of his shirt. You haven’t seen him wear blue in a while. It’s a reminder that even if he doesn’t magically vanish from view, even if he doesn’t come knocking on your door asking for another face, Skaia pinned a lot on him too, even if Pin the Destiny on the Child Hero isn’t a party game <em>you’ve</em> ever heard of.</p>
<p>In your despair, you’ve convinced yourself you’re in this fix alone, but maybe everyone is preoccupied with how the world sees them. Certainly some of your housemates have had masks fixed on them by the cruel costumers of fate. You can’t control what they see now. Or, rather, the only way you can is by making sure they see nothing at all. But you have a life to live! Errands to run! None of which require being a superhero.</p>
<p>Maybe you’ll always be like this, with your power coming in fits and starts. It’s not what you’d dreamed of being, but then, your dreams have been disappointing of late. You can’t be anything while ghosting around like some shrinking violet.</p>
<p>It’s an apple in the hand. You can’t make a new you true all at once. You have to believe a new you <em>should</em> be, and then work to make it so. There’s no wishing this away. The first step, and each painful step after that, is trying. And when you know that, and <em>know</em> you know it… there’s that lifting feeling as the world rewrites itself, bearing you up like one of Jane’s helium balloons. You take a deep breath and manage a smile. “If I want to rebrand the Jake English experience, I had better start doing some product testing with my key audience.”</p>
<p> “Do you think it worked?” John asks.</p>
<p>“It would’ve been nice to have some sort of magical girl transformation, just to be sure. But yes, I think so. How do I look?”</p>
<p>Nothing would have changed for him, but he gives you a long once over anyway. Then he shrugs. “You look like Jake to me.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I was hoping to hear.”</p>
<p>You take a step out into the hallway and look behind you. John gives you a thumbs up. You suck in a fortifying breath, stiffen your spine, and make your way to the living room. Everyone from your session has clustered there. A few have their phones out, and you think guiltily of your multiple communication devices powered off and shoved under your bed. Going off the grid these days takes commitment. You clear your throat and step into the room. Five heads snap up. They see you. It’s a start.</p>
<p>“Hi, everyone,” you say. “It’s me.”</p>
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